


beautiful

by rebelliousangel



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Brightwell, Dancing, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Malcolm being Malcolm, Teasing, brightwell being cute, lots of fluff, lots of pining, malcolm calling dani beautiful, workplace banter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29910807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelliousangel/pseuds/rebelliousangel
Summary: Malcolm gets a kick out of calling Dani "beautiful" while trying to solve a murder.Takes place after the events of 2x07.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell
Comments: 20
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

"Good morning, beautiful!" Malcolm practically sang as he approached Detective Dani Powell with a smirk pressed to his lips. Rays of sunshine kissed her skin and made her doe-eyes sparkle. He knew how she'd react. Her cheeks would flare red and she'd struggle to look him in the eyes. The word had gotten under her skin in the best possible way. Ever since Malcolm had allowed his fantasy life with Dani—one where he'd curled next to her every night and pressed sweet kisses to her lips—to bleed into reality at the plastic surgery clinic, he'd taken every opportunity to make her smile. 

After all, her happiness was the only sliver of light in his destructive wormhole of a life filled with violent nightmares and delusions.

Just as he'd predicted, Dani squinted her eyes, pressed her lips in a line, and her gaze fell to the floor. She moved her mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words. 

Then she did. "Good morning, Malcolm."

His name rolled off her tongue like heaven. Malcolm heard it for the first time at the precinct. At first, he convinced himself it must've been a concussion-induced product of his hyperactive psyche. But it wasn't. She'd called him by his name. Not Bright—a name he'd created to escape his father—but Malcolm. 

"You look..." Dani studied his face, probably dissecting the dark bags under his eyes that seemed to linger like a bad tattoo. "Terrible."

Malcolm laughed. She hadn't meant it in a bad way. She was just worried. 

He shrugged. "Well, not everyone can be as beautiful as you."

Dani's chest rose and stayed there. "Stop that."

"What?" He played stupid. 

"You know what."

"Sorry, would you prefer something else, like gorgeous or stunning? Oh, maybe exquisite!" 

She bit back a smile and shook her head. "Malcolm..."

There it was again. His name. A prayer on her lips. 

A delightful warmth washed over his body and his heart fluttered like a tiny hummingbird. In a perfect world—one where Ainsley hadn't killed a man and slathered herself in pig's blood to get back at him for lying—he would've swallowed his pride and asked her to dinner. Or maybe a movie. Normal people stuff his therapist droned on about back when Malcolm's biggest concern was his serial killer father. 

But covering up a murder for his sister wasn't exactly the definition of mundane. 

Dani gestured him forward. "The case."

"Right, right." Malcolm threw his hands by his head. "Sorry. I guess I just got distracted." He considered calling her beautiful again, but decided against it. Words lost potency when they were overused and he cherished knowing he could make her blush any time he desired. "Insomnia will do that to you."

"You okay?" She asked, raising a brow. 

"Yeah, just the usual nightmares. No big deal."

Malcolm regretted the words the second they left his mouth. He trusted Dani more than anyone in the world, but he hated when she worried about him. Her smile would vanish and be replaced by furrowed brows. He'd probably slaughtered the mood to shreds. It threw his stomach into knots and made him want to disappear. 

"Well," Dani sighed, "I'm sure Gil has something extra twisted to cheer you up. And give me some new nightmares."

He chuckled, glad Dani hadn't allowed his slip to sour the conversation. It was easy talking to her. Laughter flowed freely and naturally. 

Malcolm held the yellow tape for her to pass under and followed her up the steps of a cozy little pavilion at the center of the park.

J.T., Gil, and Edrisa were already surveying the body. Gil noticed them first.

"What do you have for us, Gil?" Malcolm chimed. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dani bite back a smile. 

He tilted his head, eyeing them from head-to-toe. "You two seem strangely...happy this morning."

"I don't know what you mean. I'm always happy when there's a murder!" Malcolm said in a desperate attempt to distract him from Dani's rosy cheeks. Several officers on site paused and gave him a funny look. "To solve. A murder to solve."

"Whatever you say, Bright." Gil sighed. He shot them a knowing glance, but didn't push further. "Meet Isaac Griffith. A twenty-six-year-old insurance broker engaged to be married in three days." 

"Guess he won't be making it to the wedding," Dani said.

"Insurance broker, huh? Hopefully, he had life insurance..." Malcolm approached the corpse. Post-mortem rot had begun to set-in. The man's face had paled to a dull gray. "Cause of death?"

"Heart-attack! Or at least, that's what the killer would want you to believe." Edrisa turned toward him. "But a shard belonging to a shattered wine glass thrown over the side of the pavilion suggests otherwise."

Malcolm knelt beside her. "Hang on...is that—" He blinked a few times and inhaled deeply. "Almonds." A smile crept onto his face. Of course, he smelt like almonds. 

"Bright, did you just...sniff the body?" Dani said from behind him.

"Why are we even surprised at this point?" J.T. chuckled.

"He smells like almonds!" 

"Maybe he's trying out a new cologne?" Dani crossed her arms, challenging him the way she always did. 

"No," Malcolm laughed, "there's only one thing that could make a body smell like that—cyanide. " 

"You think he was poisoned?" Gil asked. "Using cyanide?"

Malcolm stood. "It's actually a lot easier to get your hands on than you'd think. In World War II, soldiers would carry suicide tablets containing cyanide to take upon capture to prevent leaking government secrets to the enemy. They were under the impression it'd be a quick and painless death because it only takes around five minutes for the chemical to shut down the lungs and stop the heart, but it's actually an agonizing way to die. Forty years ago in Chicago, seven people were killed because someone tampered with Tylenol capsules, lacing them with potassium cyanide. It's a solution commonly used in mining to separate gold from the ore."

Edrisa nodded. "In small amounts—like in apples—it's harmless, but large doses can be fatal. I bet I'll even find burns in the gastrointestinal tract once I cut this sucker open."

"But it isn't like ethylene glycol or sodium hypochlorite," Malcolm said. The team stared at him. "Chemicals found in everyday cleaning products like antifreeze and bleach. Those can take hours to kill someone. Whoever slipped cyanide into this man's drink wanted him to suffer."

"So, we're looking for, what? Someone who betrayed him?" Dani squinted her eyes and examined the body. "Someone who'd have access to cyanide without raising any red flags. Someone with a connection to mining?"

"Well, it could be anyone." He shrugged.

"That's very helpful, Bright, thank you." Gil's brow raised.

"No, no, I just mean that, traditionally, women are more likely to murder someone with poison than men are. We could be looking at an ex-girlfriend, a scorned lover, maybe an angry colleague or client—"

"What about an angry fiancé?" Dani uncrossed her arms. 

Malcolm shot finger guns at her. "It's a strong possibility. This was meticulous and relaxed. Isaac didn't struggle. He trusted his killer enough to accept a late-night drink in the park. I think we're looking for a woman in her mid-to-late twenties. The fiancé would be a good place to start."

"Already on it. Helena Porter. She works as a dance instructor. Powell, take Bright to her studio just off of Broadway Street. J.T. and I will interview his colleagues. Edrisa, get to the lab and check for other signs of foul play."

"You coming?" Dani motioned at Malcolm. 

"Right behind you, beautiful!" he grinned before he realized he hadn't said it in his head. He'd meant to say it in his head. 

The entire team stared at them. 

"I—uh...I mean—" He stumbled over his words the same way he did when he thought a landmine was about to go off in his face.

Gil crossed his arms.

J.T. snickered. "Wow."

Blood drained from Dani's face. She was staring at him. In private, the compliments had been nothing more than playful teasing. A delightful way to get under her skin and remind her she didn't need to be insecure. But now, in front of the team, it was serious. He'd called her beautiful—the equivalent of shouting his love from the rooftops—and then he stuttered over his words. There was no hope of recovery. 

"Bright?" Gil almost smiled.

"Yeah, I—" His eyes darted around the park. "Beautiful weather today, right? I mean, it was supposed to rain but there's not a cloud in sight. That's rare in New York!"

Gil placed a hand to his forehead. "Just take our beautiful Dani and report back when you know where Helena Porter was last night. Who knows, maybe all those years of dance will finally pay off." 

Malcolm mentally cursed. Gil was the only one he told about the five years he spent in ballet. The team would never let him forget about it. He'd be asked to plié and pirouette every waking second of the day.

"Dance?" Dani laughed, seeming to forget all about his slip-up. 

Malcolm shook his head and followed her down the steps. "Yeah, ballet. My mother forced me into it as a child. It's no big deal." 

"It's hard to believe you weren't more popular in high school." 

"Alright, alright, get your laughs out now." He rolled his eyes, skipping beside her. "But one day it might come in handy." 

She paused, stopping dead in her tracks. "How so? Are you gonna pirouette into the bad guy and knock him unconscious?" 

"Ha-ha." 

A strand of curly hair bounced by her eyes. He fought every instinct to brush it away with his fingertips.

"Better get going before Gil's on us for losing daylight. After you," he stared deep into her eyes before adding, "beautiful."

Like before, her cheeks flushed pink, Malcolm smiled, and a comfortable silence washed over them as he followed her to the N.Y.P.D.-issued cruiser.


	2. Chapter 2

"If your fiancé was murdered less than twenty-four hours ago, wouldn't you call in sick to work?" Malcolm stared through the windows of the fanciest dance studio he'd ever seen—which is saying a lot considering his mother insisted on nothing but the best for her children. From the side of the road, he saw a large space with a full-length mirror and a chandelier overhead.

Dani pulled the keys from the ignition and turned toward Malcolm. "It's weird, but everyone grieves in their own way. Maybe she's throwing herself into her work." 

Malcolm nodded. "Or maybe, she did it, and she's relieved her fiancé isn't around anymore. Maybe, she was having second thoughts about the wedding." 

"And decided to poison him with cyanide? He must've really hurt her." Dani's hand lingered on the car door for a moment before she let out a breath, licked her lips, and studied his face. "Hey, so, are we going to talk about what happened?" 

"What do you mean?" Malcolm shook his head. He knew exactly what she was talking about, but was far from prepared for that conversation. 

"You know, back at the park..." Dani wouldn't let it go. 

Malcolm opened his mouth to come up with some desperate excuse, but nothing came out. 

Dani pouted. He could've sworn his silence upset her. 

Malcolm shrugged. "It just kinda...slipped out. Everyone was joking around and I forgot we weren't alone."

She pressed her lips into a thin line and stared at her lap. He must've messed up. 

"I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable." It'd been the truth...sort of. But he couldn't admit to fantasizing about a domestic life with her in his head. "Believe me, that's never my intention. Not with you."

Her eyes flickered back up to his face. "No, I'm not uncomfortable. It's okay." 

Malcolm nodded. "Good." He blinked a few times, unwilling to stare at Dani for longer than appropriate. If he stayed there, lost in the gentle curves of her cheekbones, he might've begun to imagine the silkiness of her skin against his fingertips. Or the warmth of her tiny hands under his when he finally mustered the courage to comfort her in the hospital as they waited for Gil to come out of surgery. He didn't want to lose that feeling or her friendship. The quiet nights they'd spent together sipping tea and laughing over Gil's unhealthy obsession with turtlenecks had been the happiest of his life.

He couldn't lose her.

"We should probably get in there before class starts." Dani broke the silence. "Maybe you can show me a move or two from all those years in ballet." 

Malcolm's head fell forward as he laughed. "You're never gonna let me live that one down, are you?" 

"Not a chance." She gave him one last look, squinting her nose before finally pulling open the car door.

  
Malcolm shook his head and watched her march around the front of the car, stopping by his door. He loved the way she carried herself—like she didn't have to prove anything to anyone. 

"You coming, Malcolm?" Dani crossed her arms as he stepped onto the curb beside her. It'd been a delightful symphony to his ears. She'd teased him and used his first name. All was right in the world. His romantic feelings for her wouldn't ruin their friendship after all.

He pushed the morning's events to the back of his mind as they entered the building and passed through a narrow corridor littered with team photos of trophies and performances. 

"Are you Helena Porter?" Dani asked a tall, blonde woman pawing through files behind the front desk.

"Who are you?" The woman pushed a drawer shut and stared through them, dissecting them with her eyes.

"I'm Detective Dani Powell with the N.Y.P.D." She dug into her pocket and flashed a badge at the woman. 

Malcolm studied her for textbook signs of discomfort—the inability to sit still, fidgeting, playing with her hair, a loss of eye contact—but found nothing. Her face had been painted in foundation, eyeshadow, and heavy mascara. There hadn't been a line out of place or a single smudge under the waterline. It'd been like she'd come straight from hair and makeup with zero knowledge of her dead fiancé.

"Is this about Isaac?" The woman sighed. It was unclear if she'd been upset about losing the man she was about to marry or the general disruption. 

"Where were you last night?" Dani asked. 

"At the apartment Isaac and I share together," Helena said. Her face was a blank canvas, devoid of every emotion but annoyance. "I hope you don't think I killed him. I always told him those late-night walks of his were trouble."

"Did he do that often?" Malcolm tilted his head. "Go on walks by himself in the middle of the night?" 

Helena blinked a few times and licked her lips. She maintained eye contact with him as she spoke. "Yes, he liked the quiet. And I can't say I blame him; wedding planning has been brutal—not that he did much—but it's something he started doing ever since I took over the studio. He has his thing and I have mine. It helps him blow off steam and we go to bed happy, so, who am I to judge?"

Malcolm nodded.

Helena shook her head, blinking again. "It's terrible what happened to him. I just—excuse me, I can't think about it or I'll fall apart. I've got a class starting in two minutes, and if I start crying, I won't stop." 

"Mrs. Porter, we just need a moment of your time." Malcolm tried. 

"And you'll have it as soon as this class is over." She smiled, smoothing the fabric of her skirt. "You're more than welcome to join us while you wait." Then she disappeared down a set of double-doors at the end of the hallway.

Dani leaned closer to him. "Looks like I'll get to see your moves even sooner than I'd hoped."

  
"Wait, we're going to join?" Malcolm hesitated. Normally, he'd jump at the chance to show off his dancing skills. But this was different. Dani would be watching. 

"Aw," Dani stuck out her lower lip. "You don't have stage fright, do you? I can't imagine a child prodigy like you would be afraid to perform."

"Oh, I'd wipe the floor with you." Malcolm joked as he swallowed his pride and followed her into the studio. "Gil forgot to tell you about the part where my instructor said I showed 'great promise'."

Dani's brow raised as he held the door open for her.

"Thanks," she mumbled as she stepped through. "Honestly, though, we'll be out of here faster if we suck it up and sit-in on the class. She's obviously trying to buy time, and we're not going to let that happen."

"One of them is definitely cheating...I just can't tell who," Malcolm said. "Frantic blinking is a sign of nervousness or paranoia. She's hiding something."

The space was bigger than what Malcolm saw through the window. If no one told him it was a studio, he'd assume it was a hall for high school dances and weddings. Around twelve people stood, immersed in conversation. Most of the women were in skirts, but the men were dressed casually, in sweatpants and t-shirts. No one was in leggings. Malcolm's heart thumped against his ribcage. This couldn't be a ballet class. It had to be a—

"Detectives!" Helena chimed, clapping her hands together. The general commotion dulled to a hushed whisper as strangers shot them curious side glances. Malcolm attempted to catalogue each person in his mind, but it was difficult to focus when his hand started to tremble. "So lovely you decided to join us!"

Dani nodded, blinked slowly, and grabbed onto one of her arms. 

She must've been nervous too.

Malcolm shrugged off his overcoat and blazer and draped them over a fold-out chair in the corner of the studio. He played with the ends of his sleeves, adjusting the cufflinks to maximize movement. 

"Okay, everybody," Helena called from the front of the room, "pair up, and we'll get started!"

Malcolm cleared his throat. "Dani, would you do me the honour of being my partner?" He wanted to relax her. 

It worked. Dani laughed, threw her head forward, and nodded. "Well, when you ask so nicely, how can a girl refuse?" 

"The most important part of ballroom dancing," Helena said, "is intimacy."

Dani's eyes widened. Malcolm knew what she must've been thinking. He was thinking it too. 

_Ballroom dancing? So close together? With my friend and professional partner? After what happened this morning?_

He almost reached out to grab her hand, assuring her everything would be okay. They'd get through the dance the way they would any other case and return to the office for some piping hot Earl Grey tea. Her eyes would crinkle as she laughed about his perfect form, and he'd watch her, silently admiring her happiness from afar, wishing he could take her back to his apartment and curl up under the covers next to her.

But things were different. He'd told her she was beautiful—alone and in front of the team. He couldn't press rewind and, frankly, he didn't want to. But dancing, together and intimately, was something new. He didn't know if he'd be able to stare into her eyes, inches away from her soft lips, and not kiss her. 

"You have to have an unbreakable connection to your partner, otherwise, the whole routine falls apart." 

Malcolm smiled sheepishly at Dani, who'd been focused on Helena and another gentleman at the front of the room. 

"She's oddly calm considering her fiancé just died," Malcolm whispered, desperately trying to distract himself from being consumed by his thoughts. "I wouldn't be surprised if she started cracking jokes."

"I want you to reach out your hand to your partner until you're standing palm-to-palm," Helena demonstrated, "you want to rest comfortably against them. Don't grip the hand, caress it." 

Ever the teacher's pet, Malcolm followed. He raised his left palm—hand lingering in the air, but prepared to wither away when Dani inevitably said it was stupid and they'd just wait for class to end to question Helena. But she didn't. He froze as Dani's palm hovered over his until they were connected. The familiar warmth of her soft skin sent shockwaves down his spine. He steadied his breathing, but didn't dare look her in the eyes. His gaze lingered on their hands as her tiny fingers curled around his and they settled into the instructed position.

"Remember that connection comes from the core, not your muscles. You want to breathe into your partner," Helena studied the couple in front of them. "You want to feel everything they're feeling."

Malcolm nodded and couldn't help as the corners of his mouth twitched into a smile. "This is..."

"Intense," Dani breathed. "But it's just dancing. We can get through it. Maybe if we impress her, she'll be more comfortable talking to us about Isaac."

"Right," Malcolm nodded. It's just dancing. Millions of people have done this professionally. And they were professionals about it.

Helena's voice disrupted their conversation. "Gentleman, I want you to place your free hand on your partner's back."

Malcolm tilted his head. He'd touched Dani before, but something felt different. Her shallow breaths coursed through his body like the blood in his veins. 

"Is it okay if I—"

"Yeah." Dani nodded, avoiding eye contact. "Of course."

Malcolm placed his other palm on the small of her back and waited for her to flinch away from his touch. 

  
But she didn't. She only licked her lips and smiled at the ground. 

Malcolm made the mistake of watching her. When she raised her head, their faces were inches away from each other. Her breath was warm and inviting. The next few moments seemed like something out of his euphoric dream world. He lost himself in her eyes. She stared back at him, unwilling to look away first.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Helena interrupted them. "Hand under the shoulder, detective." She corrected his position. "It makes for a smoother and larger range of motion."

"Sorry," Malcolm grinned, blinking a few times to ground himself back to reality.

Dani scrunched her nose as Helena walked away. "I thought you said you were good at this?"

"Ballet, I'm good at ballet. Ballroom dancing is a whole other animal."

"Really?" Dani challenged. "Because you seemed pretty confident that night you got high and asked me to dance with you."

Malcolm chuckled. "You know I don't remember that. I bet my form was horrible." 

"A little sloppy, but you managed not to step on my feet, so, I'd call it a win." 

Malcolm squinted at her and she smiled. 

He spent the next few minutes obsessing over Helena's every movement for two reasons; first, he was determined to study her natural mannerisms and nervous habits before they interviewed her, and second, his inner perfectionist would never live it down if he messed up the steps, especially in front of a woman as ethereally gorgeous as Dani Powell.

He attempted to mimic the pair behind them. _Right foot back, left foot back, repeat, then forward again._ They moved in near-perfect synchronicity, but lacked the chemistry Helena had obsessed over.

"Hey, you're actually pretty good at this," Dani said. 

"You never should've doubted me." He smirked, leading Dani into a steady rhythm. Her hips moved in time with his. "You're not so bad yourself. Are you sure you've never done this before?"

"Guess I'm a natural." She teased. 

"Actually, there's a lot of debate about that. Sure, some people are intrinsically attracted to certain hobbies or occupations, but for the most part, natural talent is a myth. I mean, you clearly have a solid sense of rhythm and good muscle memory, but that all comes from hard work and practice. You might've been in some sort of organized sport as a child—gymnastics, or maybe martial arts—something that required routine and—" 

Dani stared at him, brows raised.

"I'm doing it again, aren't I?" He yearned to cover his face, hiding from her. But her hand seemed to fit in his like the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle. It felt welcoming and good and he didn't want to lose that.

It felt like home. 

She giggled. The vibrations moved through his hands and settled into his core. "It's okay. Old habits, right?"

"Right," he looked at her again, noticing how close she was. "Old habits." His tone softened, and before he knew it, his eyes fell to her lips. "You know, you're even more beautiful up close." He blinked, slowly, performing mental acrobatics. 

_I could kiss her right now. She's right there, in front of me. Just a few more inches and...it'd be so easy. But...I can't do that to her. It'd be selfish. And I can't be selfish. Not with her. _

Dani's soft lips parted as she blushed. "Malcolm..." It dripped from her tongue like sweet honey. 

She wanted him to kiss her. Otherwise, she would've told him to focus or pushed him away. She wanted to cross the line from friends to...something more. The bitter almond smell lingered in his nostrils, but he could only focus on her faint lavender perfume. It made it difficult to think straight.

Malcolm inhaled, willing himself to do it. 

_Okay, you can do this. Just count down from three. One...two—_

"Ah!" A voice groaned from behind him as he collided with Dani, nearly stepping on her foot.

  
Dani's hands were on his shoulders, steadying him, but her attention was on the woman behind them. 

"Watch where you're going." A petite brunette woman snarled at him. She adjusted the chain of a locket and tucked it under the fabric of her dress. "It's bad enough my partner has two left feet."

Malcolm regained his balance. "Sorry," he said sheepishly, "first class." 

  
"Yeah, well, some of us are trying to win competitions," she rolled her eyes. "Perfection doesn't come easy, and having some amateur bump into me doesn't exactly help with practicing." 

Malcolm nodded, unsure what to say. 

The brunette shook her head. "Just...stay out of my way, okay?" 

"Got it." Malcolm pressed his lips into a line. As the woman turned away from him, he looked at Dani. "I need some air." 


	3. Chapter 3

Malcolm leaned against the police cruiser outside the dance studio, immediately regretting his impromptu departure from the class—more importantly, forgetting his overcoat and blazer inside, and being too anxious to go back and retrieve it. The wind cut through the fabric of his button-down shirt, but that wasn't what made him shiver. 

He'd almost taken Dani's face in his hands and kissed her. Sweet and passionate. In the middle of a case. 

He swallowed hard as his hand began to tremble. 

They hadn't even interviewed Helena Porter, and Malcolm had been willing to throw away any credibility because his emotions had gotten the best of him. 

And what would Dani think when he confessed to turning Endicott into a human D.I.Y. side table from Ikea? All to protect his sister—who seemed to be on the verge of, if not already consumed by a psychotic break. From the moment Ainsley's blade slipped across Endicott's throat, he'd decided to protect Dani. She was his safe space, but he wouldn't drag her into the mud with him, and he certainly wouldn't make her an accomplice. Breaching the trust they'd worked so hard to build was a sacrifice he'd have to make to keep her from being thrown behind bars. 

But his feelings made things complicated. Every word that left his mouth only buried the truth deeper from her. The second they became anything more than friends—if, by some miracle, she felt the same way—that breach of trust would transform into a dagger in the back.

"Hey," Dani said, tearing him from his thoughts. His blazer and overcoat were draped over her arm. "I thought you could use some company out here. That, and you might be cold."

"Thanks." Malcolm smiled as he took the clothing from her and pulled it around his shoulders. He didn't feel like talking and there wasn't much to say. 

"It was getting kinda stuffy in there, anyway. I told Helena we'd just wait for the class to end." 

Malcolm nodded, staring past her at signs on the side of the building advertising discounts on dance lessons. 

"You seem..." Dani tilted her head, "distant."

"Just thinking." He shrugged, grabbing his hand to keep it from trembling in front of her. She would only ask him what was wrong and he'd be forced to lie again.

"About your two left feet?" She always knew how to make him laugh. 

"Hey," he blinked, "I was doing just fine until that woman pushed me into you."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." 

"Well then, the jokes on you because I don't sleep."

Dani shook her head. Malcolm recognized her way of dealing with his self-deprecating humour. He liked that she didn't push him. The unspoken silence between them—and his serial killer father—said all that needed to be said.

Dani peered over her shoulder. "I think Helena's dismissing them now." 

Malcolm's focus was back on the filers plastered across the windows. Helena had been the face of the company. She posed on the posters in a passionate embrace with her partner. He squinted his eyes and stepped closer.

"Isaac was an insurance broker right?" he asked. "Not a dancer?"

"Yeah." 

He approached the flier and pointed at the man. "Then why is he on all the fliers?"

Dani shrugged. "Maybe she didn't want to hire a model and needed a partner. Y'know, the way family-owned businesses do to save money."

"But Helena has plenty of money and a partner—a good one. So why would Isaac be on the poster?" Malcolm's hands flew around as he spoke. "Maybe he didn't trust her." 

"You think this is about trust?" Dani crossed her arms. She'd been closing herself off to him and he couldn't blame her. She told him she had trouble trusting people and he lied to her face.

"Not just trust," Malcolm chose his words carefully, "control."

"Detectives?" Helena poked her head out of the door before he could finish. She'd tied her hair into a neat ponytail. "I'm ready for you now. You should come inside, having you out here can't be good for business." And then she disappeared inside the studio. 

Malcolm frowned as Dani pulled open the door. "There's definitely something going on there."

"Well, there's only one way to find out," Dani said as she entered the building for a second time that morning. 

They followed Helena to a large office at the opposite end of the hall. The walls were decorated with her numerous accomplishments while her desk was bare, aside from a few neatly folded files and a small succulent. If Malcolm hadn't seen the rest of the studio, he would've assumed she worked a boring desk job with a hefty salary. 

"Y'know, I took ballet when I was younger," Malcolm said. "It must be difficult teaching lessons while finding time to rehearse for competitions. But it seems like you manage just fine." 

"It's a challenge sometimes, but it's worth it. Now, what can I do for you, detect—" Helena shook her head as she sat behind the desk and crossed her legs. "Sorry, I didn't get your names!" She giggled, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I do that sometimes—get ahead of myself. Isaac never appreciated it."

"Mrs. Porter," Dani ignored her request. A sense of anonymity meant an upper-hand in whatever twisted power game Helena was playing. "Did Isaac have any enemies?" 

"Enemies?" Helena forced a laugh. "Everyone who knew Isaac wanted his head on a platter. Metaphorically, of course." She blinked a few times and readjusted the fabric of her skirt. "Not that Isaac wasn't a good guy, he was, he just...had a bit of a temper. People didn't appreciate when he got explosive."

"Is that you and Isaac on the poster by the front window?" Malcolm gestured behind him, ignoring Dani's all-too-familiar 'where are you going with this' face.

Helena tilted her head, clasped her hands, and leaned forward. "Yes, it is." 

"I couldn't help but notice. It's a lovely photo," Malcolm said. "But I thought Isaac was an insurance broker?" 

"He was." Helena blinked a few times before squinting at him. "We thought advertising couples ballroom dancing might be better if there was an actual couple on the sign."

"Was that his idea?" Dani chimed in. 

"It was a discussion we had, together." Helena bit the inside of her cheek and leaned back in her chair. "We made lots of decisions together. Sorry, how is this relevant to who killed him?" 

"I'm just wondering, why Isaac?" Malcolm chose his words carefully. "I mean, you seemed awfully close with your dance partner today. Of course, that's just the magic of natural chemistry at work. But why not pose with him? You and I both know Isaac isn't a professional dancer, so why wouldn't you choose your partner instead?" 

Helena crossed her arms. "What exactly are you insinuating?"

"I think, maybe, Isaac didn't want you to pose with your partner. Maybe that natural chemistry was something more than professional. At least, it was to him. I think Isaac might've been jealous by how close the two of you are and the long hours you spent rehearsing for competitions."

"Bright..." Dani warned.

Helena paused, licked her lips, and smiled. "Well, Bright," she'd done it on purpose, using his name to intimidate him. "I think you're selling yourself short. Besides, if anyone here should be bragging about natural chemistry, it's the two of you."

Malcolm shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He refused to look at Dani, fearing her reaction. By some strange miracle, he had managed to avoid talking about the near-kiss. But Helena clearly needed a diversion and it was working.

He chewed on his bottom lip, not knowing how to respond.

"I've been dancing for most of my life, but I've never seen two people do it with such passion," Helena smirked. She knew what she was doing. "Has anyone ever told you that you'd make a beautiful couple? I mean, sparks were flying everywhere until Natalia practically assaulted you."

"Natalia?" Dani asked, seemingly unphased by Helena's feeble attempt at a distraction.

"The stringy-haired girl that nearly took out Bright here." 

"Has she been a student of yours for long?" Dani pushed.

"Well, she was my classmate first." Helena's shoulders tensed. "Most of my students are. The studio belonged to my mother. I took over when she got bored of it. Natalia likes to think she's my biggest competition." 

"But you don't think she is," Malcolm said.

"God, no. She's as amateur as they get." Helena scoffed. "That girl couldn't dance her way through the macarena, but she'd sure be willing to slit some throats to try." 

Malcolm blinked back the memory of Ainsley killing Endicott, determined to focus on the case.

Dani nodded and stood. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Porter. We'll be in touch if anything else comes up."

"One last question," Malcolm raised a hand, "do you know anyone who works in mining?"

Helena raised a brow. "No, not currently. I mean, Isaac's father was a miner, but he's not around anymore."

"Do you know where he is?" 

"No, you misunderstand me. Isaac's father died a little over a year ago. It was a heart attack. Poor Isaac was so torn up about it, he refused to leave the house for weeks. The only time he did was to go on his...walks."

"Alone?" 

"Yes, alone!" Helena scoffed. She'd been getting impatient and her tough exterior had begun to chip. "Like I said, he was a good man." 

"Of course," Malcolm stood and buttoned his blazer. He'd gone too far and didn't want to upset Dani.

Then she surprised him. "Is it possible that Isaac was meeting someone else?" 

Malcolm stared at Dani with wide eyes.

"I think it's time you leave." Helena blinked a few times before standing. She almost shoved them out of the office. Then, she grinned and said, "keep me updated, detectives." And they were back on the sidewalk before they knew it.

"That went well." Malcolm threw his arms up, exasperated, and followed Dani to the car.

"We agree that Isaac was definitely not a good man, right?" Dani peered over the hood. Strands of curly hair bounced around her face and she pushed it away. 

"Helena doesn't even believe that." Malcolm sat next to her and shut the door. "Every time she called him a 'good man,' she kept eye contact—but that's only one stress reaction. She blinked. A lot."

"Don't we all?" 

"No," Malcolm laughed. "Not that much. It's like she was trying so hard to maintain eye contact that her eyes found another way to betray her. And did you hear the words she used to describe him? Isaac didn't 'appreciate' when Helena had a momentary lapse and often got 'explosive' with people. Remember how we said this might be about control?"

Dani nodded.

"Isaac wouldn't even let Helena pose with another man. He made sure they made every decision together—personal and professional. I wonder how Helena's colleague felt about that."

"And I thought I had trust issues." Her eyes met his for a moment, the same way they had before he'd made the executive decision to actually kiss Dani Powell, and Natalia bumped into him. "I guess I'm just lucky to have a team looking out for me. People who care. I don't think Helena had that."

"You were hurt in the past. No one blames you for that." Malcolm gave her a sad smile. "And you aren't going around poisoning people with cyanide."

"You think she could've done it?" 

"Helena wasn't exactly torn up about his death. Before class, she mentioned how she'd cry if she started talking about Isaac, but I didn't see a single tear. No shaky voice or watery eyes. I got more of a rise out of her when I brought up Natalia. And her immediate reaction was to deflect the attention to us."

Dani smiled a little at that last word and Malcolm's mind went blank. Every part of him yearned to be back in that studio, hands pressed together and foreheads nearly grazing as they smiled and swayed to some slow song he'd never heard of.

"What?"

"Nothing," Malcolm shook his head. His chest was heavy, and before he could kill the words on his tongue, he said, "just admiring the view." 

Dani closed her eyes as her head fell forward. She stared at her lap for a moment. Her right cheek was visible from between the curls. She'd been blushing again—but it was different from before. Her smile grew from her cheeks in a way that was new. Malcolm hadn't been teasing her, he meant every word. And Dani must've felt it too.

"We should probably get back to the precinct," Malcolm said, still gazing at her. "Gil's going to want to know what we found out."

Dani licked her lips and stared at the steering wheel. "Yeah." With a steady hand, she put the keys into the ignition. 

"And if he says anything about what happened this morning—"

"Oh, don't worry. I'll tell him all about your two left feet." Dani smirked at him as the engine roared to life.

Malcolm grinned and waited for her to turn her attention to the road before taking in every inch of her. He memorized every detail—the curves of her cheekbones defined by the sunshine, her pretty eyelashes as they swept up when she scanned the intersection, and the lingering smile lines, permanently etched into the sides of her cheeks from when he'd made her laugh. Trees and storefronts whizzed by the window, and the Ainsley fiasco lingered in the back of his mind, but in that moment, Dani was the only thing in existence, and he intended to soak it up for as long as he could.


End file.
